God of Ruin (Legacy of Gods #4) by Rina Kent

“Was I supposed to hear something else? Pretentiousness laced with a sense of victimization, perhaps?” He pushes his thumb against the pulse point in my throat. “Don’t act as if I forced you into anything, Mia. You begged for my cock on your fucking knees before you proceeded to choke on it. You ran so I’d chase you. You fought me so I’d wrestle you down. Spoiler alert, just because you pretend it was all me doesn’t take away your share of responsibility.”

“I’m not you. I take full responsibility for my actions. I admit that I made a mistake in falling into your trap, which is why I’m rectifying it. Let me go, Landon. Unless you’re ready to force me and unavoidably get your throat slit.”

The corner of his lips pulls in one of his taunting smirks. “You think the prospect of a slit throat would stop me?”

“No. But the possibility of losing my fight would. You want me because I challenge you every step of the way. I make you work for that fuck, unlike many of your previous dolls who opened their legs or dropped to their knees willingly. You reach a climax because, as you previously stated, I’m difficult. What you didn’t say is that you can only feel alive when there’s a certain level of provocation or defiance. You’re so empty inside that you need chaos to feel alive. You’re so emotionally stunted that anarchy has become the soul of all your relationships. So if you’re in the mood, go ahead and force me, Landon. I’ll become as lifeless as your countless statues until I get the chance to kill you.”

There, psycho. You think you’re the only one who’s perceptive about others?

I lift my chin, waiting for the smirk to be wiped off his face. My spine jerks when not only does it stay in place, but it also widens, so much so that he looks like a demon lord on his way to a war.

My body tightens, ready for a spar, though I really can’t take anything physical right now. Despite my big talk, I’m still not immune to his touch. Hell, the place where his fingers spread burns and sends a rush of tingles throughout my starved body.

I expect him to push further, to taunt and ridicule me with his brand of sarcasm, as is the norm for the asshole. However, he swiftly and easily releases me and even steps back, allowing me my first breath without his intoxicating scent and overpowering presence.

“You want me to let you go? There, I let you go.”

I stare at him, not believing what I just heard. Is Landon giving up? That’s just unfathomable. I expected resistance. Hell, I thought I’d be in this limbo for a while before he finally got bored and gave up.

I also thought he’d go the brute route and try to keep me by force or threaten me as he’s done countless times before.

This completely unbothered version was never, not even for one second, on my list of expectations.

“Mia?” Maya's voice filters in from somewhere outside. “What’s taking you so long?”

“Go,” he whispers with that smirk still in place. “Run, muse. Try to hide. If you let me catch you again, I’ll fuck up your barely put-together life.”

My spine jerks and my fight-or-flight response surges to the surface in one overpowering go. I’ve always opted for a fight, even when I was an underdog and could be beaten to death.

The only exception is when I’m faced with Landon. I can’t fight. If I do, I’ll just slide back into his trap.

And he looks absolutely venomous and positively ravenous for another bite of my flesh.

I don’t give him that.

With one last look at his taunting grin and clenching jaw, I pull the door open and do what I should’ve done the first time I met him.

I run.





My birthday has always been a weird event. One, I’ve never really liked to be the center of attention, and that situation can turn from mildly weird to full-blown awkward.

Unlike me, Maya thrives on being the star of the show. She’s wearing a white chiffon princess dress with high heels that add unnecessary height to her already long legs. Perfect blonde curls fall down her back, teasing at the bare skin beneath it. As is customary on our birthday, I’m wearing the black version of her dress with knee-length leather boots. My hair is tied in pigtails intertwined with blue ribbons.

This is the first year we’re celebrating our birthday without our parents. Mum and Dad offered to come, but Maya said she wants to celebrate with friends. I didn’t encourage them either, because I could and would blurt out everything about the chaos that’s been happening in my life lately.

Still, Mom and Dad sent us gifts and were the first to wish us a happy birthday. They told us they loved us and that we were the brightest stars of their lives.

Niko, Kill, and Gareth threw us a massive party in the Heathens' mansion. Everyone from TKU and their next of kin have flocked to the extravagance of money and blinding power.

They look up to my brother, cousins, and Jeremy as if they’re celebrities. The Heathens’ nonnegotiable power and untouchable vibe are everything they want to be. Mom has always told me that power is a dangerous game if you don’t know how to play it.

The Heathens, led by Jeremy, definitely do.

And that type of charisma attracts people like a magnet. This is why the hall downstairs brims with people, alcohol, and loud trendy music

Maya is dancing with a group of her fake friends of the week, taking pictures, and chugging alcohol. Technically, we’re supposed to wait until we’re twenty-one, but we’ve been drinking since last year. Besides, it’s the UK, and the legal drinking age here is eighteen.